I watch as my son,
three short summers old,
stands
knee-high in nettles,
weeds
and smoke-laced mist,
concentration
ploughing his features
into plump furrows,
transfixed
by the soft seed ball
parallel to his face.
Innocence brought him here,
and something else -
adventure,
a sense of daring,
call it what you will -
her has left me, briefly,
stepped outside the safe circle of my arms,
started to control his own steps,
his own life.
He touches, tentatively, his "find",
clenching his fist
into a dumpling-soft vice,
plucks the stiff green stem
too hard,
so the downy seeds
gather
in the conker-shine of his hair.
He looks for them all around,
not knowing
that snow has fallen
in September.
Small lips form a semblence of a kiss,
and his soft spit-blow sends
the few remaining hours
spinning
into the static dusk.
Discarding the bald stalk
wilting in his hand,
raped
of its downy halo,
he heads for home.
William Telling Time
Ah, dandelion clocks and the first steps of independence - I have a picture of myself around that age doing exactly the same thing (No Geoff. it's not in sepiatone, just b&w), so it really strikes a chord.
Nice use of language here
...three short summers old,
stands
knee-high in nettles,
weeds
and smoke-laced mist...
her has left me, briefly, - ?
I'm not too sure that everyone will know what a 'conker' is - I don't know if that's a term used outside Britain.
A good little poem, one or two lines are pushing cliche, but you probably know which ones they are. Still, you handle the subject matter well - I'm sure it'll stir many a memory.
nice one
Barrie
Nice use of language here
...three short summers old,
stands
knee-high in nettles,
weeds
and smoke-laced mist...
her has left me, briefly, - ?
I'm not too sure that everyone will know what a 'conker' is - I don't know if that's a term used outside Britain.
A good little poem, one or two lines are pushing cliche, but you probably know which ones they are. Still, you handle the subject matter well - I'm sure it'll stir many a memory.
nice one
Barrie
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twoleftfeet
- Perspicacious Poster
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- Location: Standing by a short pier, looking for a long run-up
Nice one indeed, Lu
I love "dumpling-soft vice" - a wonderful description of a baby/toddler's grip.
You have captured the mood and the moment, and no doubt have a DVD to commemorate it, unlike Barrie's b/w photo
or my stone tablet etching
Thanks for the read
Geoff
I love "dumpling-soft vice" - a wonderful description of a baby/toddler's grip.
You have captured the mood and the moment, and no doubt have a DVD to commemorate it, unlike Barrie's b/w photo
or my stone tablet etching
Thanks for the read
Geoff
Hi Barrie/Geoff
Thanks for your comments.
William (or Will, as he now prefers to be called!) is now 24yrs and a strapping 6ft tall! I re-worked the poem from the notes I kept from many moons ago, but I don't think the image of such a thing ever leaves you, so it was quite easy to do at the ripe old age of 47! Luckily, I had made copious notes - near enough a complete poem - something that I have got in the habit of over the last 30-odd years of writing.
So, unfortunately, I don't have a dvd, video or even a photo of it! But, like everyone, I do have my memories...
Lu
Thanks for your comments.
William (or Will, as he now prefers to be called!) is now 24yrs and a strapping 6ft tall! I re-worked the poem from the notes I kept from many moons ago, but I don't think the image of such a thing ever leaves you, so it was quite easy to do at the ripe old age of 47! Luckily, I had made copious notes - near enough a complete poem - something that I have got in the habit of over the last 30-odd years of writing.
So, unfortunately, I don't have a dvd, video or even a photo of it! But, like everyone, I do have my memories...
Lu
I loved the poem. This poem truly conveys the maternal quality of the human condition. You may think that to be a sparse remark, but it truly isn't. My ideas on what a poem is have truly broadend over my intrest and this fits into the catagory of something I like; true humanity.
You may think my response to be sparse: I loved it! This poem truly conveys the maternal side of the human exsistence. Have you ever tried anything with concrete? Because I fell like the impact of this poem would be greater if the style in which it was written was more aesthetically pleasing.
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beautifulloser
- Preponderant Poster
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- Joined: Fri May 26, 2006 11:03 pm
- Location: South Of Watford
- Contact:
Hi Lu
Has a really comforting, paternal feel to it. I cannot really add to anything anyone else as posted, Barrie more elquently said it with "you handle the subject matter well - I'm sure it'll stir many a memory"
Thanks for posting it, ever shown this to Will?
Has a really comforting, paternal feel to it. I cannot really add to anything anyone else as posted, Barrie more elquently said it with "you handle the subject matter well - I'm sure it'll stir many a memory"
Thanks for posting it, ever shown this to Will?
Well, from the title I was expecting you to be shooting an apple placed on his head. A relief that didn't happen.
One or two things here verge no cliche, or become a bit too sickly for my tastes.
parallel is just too mathematical for the stanza.
her has left me, briefly,
stepped outside the safe circle of my arms,
started to control his own steps,
his own life. - I'm not sure as to whether or not this is necessary?
not knowing
that snow has fallen
in September. - I really like that.
Small lips form a semblence of a kiss, - too many 'a's. I reckon you could change the first to a 'the'.
I'm sorry but I really don't think much of raped. It just doesn't seem necessary in the tone of the poem. Its isolation makes it too powerful. Plus, it confuses your voice. What is it the narrator actually likes in this? It seemed Will was the celebrated one. But raped? What? Is he a symbol for the rape of the countryside? It paves the way for a bleakness and doomsday that is not preceeded or continued.
In fact, I'd prefer the last stanza as three lines, no five:
Discarding the bald stalk
wilting in his hand,
he heads for home.
Too many things, too little grammar, in the five lines.
I enjoyed this. It had a nice, content feel to it. The sentiment, at times, was a bit overwhelming for this time of the morning, but it was a pleasant poem all the same.
Nice one,
Dave
One or two things here verge no cliche, or become a bit too sickly for my tastes.
parallel is just too mathematical for the stanza.
her has left me, briefly,
stepped outside the safe circle of my arms,
started to control his own steps,
his own life. - I'm not sure as to whether or not this is necessary?
not knowing
that snow has fallen
in September. - I really like that.
Small lips form a semblence of a kiss, - too many 'a's. I reckon you could change the first to a 'the'.
I'm sorry but I really don't think much of raped. It just doesn't seem necessary in the tone of the poem. Its isolation makes it too powerful. Plus, it confuses your voice. What is it the narrator actually likes in this? It seemed Will was the celebrated one. But raped? What? Is he a symbol for the rape of the countryside? It paves the way for a bleakness and doomsday that is not preceeded or continued.
In fact, I'd prefer the last stanza as three lines, no five:
Discarding the bald stalk
wilting in his hand,
he heads for home.
Too many things, too little grammar, in the five lines.
I enjoyed this. It had a nice, content feel to it. The sentiment, at times, was a bit overwhelming for this time of the morning, but it was a pleasant poem all the same.
Nice one,
Dave